


To Revive, Repair, Restore

by Kaza999



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Shmoop, goofy nicknames, sera and her problems with magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaza999/pseuds/Kaza999
Summary: Adaar is a mage.  Sera has problems with magic.  They work it out.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Christophertherobin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christophertherobin/gifts).



> some fluffy sera/fem!adaar for christophertherobin! i hope you like it :)
> 
> beta'd by storiofmyroleplay

Inquisitor Adaar, Sera’s great and wonderful Tadwinks, was gorgeous, and funny, and Sera positively adored every inch of her. 

Except for one. 

Adaar was a mage, which Sera tried to overlook as best she could. She ignored how friendly Adaar was with Cole, and did her level best to tune out the weird magey discussions with Dorian, Vivienne, and Solas. She concentrated on how bloody useful a mage was in a fight.

(and she absolutely was--useful and stunning and absolutely beautiful when shrouded by fire, with frost clinging to the tips of her fingers and the corners of her eyes. Seeing Adaar in battle just about made Sera swoon.)

Sera could have gone on ignoring the magic part forever, if it weren’t for Adamant. 

The Fade and the nightmare demon and that damned dragon in Adamant had made everything in Sera’s head shift, spin, and spit; made the world unsteady under her feet. She’d fallen into the Fade after Adaar, seen the sky tear open, and gone into that place where dreams were made. 

Solas--bloody Solas, leave it to him to frig things up--had loved it, and it made Sera feel worse. Some nasty part of the back of her mind always wondered if he were right, if she was supposed to be less like _her_ and more like _him_ , all dreams and demons and magic. _He_ wasn’t dizzy or sick at all, not like the rest of them. Adaar had asked him for advice, and Sera felt so _stupid_ , but all she’d wanted was to grab onto Adaar’s hand and not let go. But she couldn’t do that because there were things in the Fade--dangerous and horrible and _nothing_ \--

And all Sera could do was stick arrows in all the things that came at them; vertigo making the world spin, the ground feeling molten under her feet.

_(nothing, nothing, nothing, rushing at her, an endless black void like nothing was worth it and nothing made sense--Adaar was scared of spiders, huge, black, hairy spiders with ten thousand piercing beady eyes--)_

They’d made it out of Adamant, and Adaar had fixed it with the help from the Wardens. When they went back to Skyhold, everything was supposed to be alright. 

Apple pies. Adaar said she had the greatest recipe for apple pies, so she and Sera had commandeered the Skyhold kitchens to make one. Sera had never made pies before--cookies, plenty of times, but not pies. Tadwinks was busy rolling out pie crust, and it was Sera’s job to peel the apples; she was attempting to do that when she sliced her finger open on the knife she was using.

Sera scowled and glanced down at her hand before sticking her finger in her mouth.

“Frig,” she mumbled around her finger. Adaar glanced up from the pie crust, saw the blood on Sera’s hand, and let out a concerned noise.

“Let me look at it, Muffin,” Adaar said, reaching out for her hand. Sera offered it, and Adaar fussed over her. 

Sera giggled. “You have the stupidest nicknames,” she informed her. “Muffin--that’s just daft, that is,”

Adaar smiled. “Is it, Petal?” she leaned forward and nuzzled Sera’s nose with her own. “Sweetie pie? Honeycake? Bitsy pookums?” 

“You’re so _weird_ ,” Sera laughed and tugged at a strand of Adaar’s silver hair. “You got flour in your hair, you weirdie.”

Adaar brought Sera’s injured hand to her lips and kissed it. Sera felt the soothing tingle of magic across her hand, and her stomach dropped. She yanked her hand out of Adaar’s with a gasp.

“Sera?” Adaar’s face fell. “What’s the matter?”

Sera looked at her hand. It was healed, as if no cut had ever been there. 

“I--” Sera started. “I--” she shook her head. “Um--” words failed her. Bloody words never worked right when she needed them to. 

“Sera?”

Sera did what she did whenever words stopped working and her brain refused to do what she wanted--she ran.

Sera ran out of the kitchens, across the courtyard, and back to the tavern, all the way back up to her room. She climbed out onto the roof and sat against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, breathing hard. She examined her hand, not even a scab. Adaar wasn’t the best of magical healers. For most things, she relied on ordinary battlefield medicine--a tincture here, a splint there. Once, Sera had wrenched her shoulder right out of the socket, and Adaar had popped it back in, quick as you please, no magic needed. Little cuts and bruises were something she could fix just fine, though.

Sera shuddered, her hand still felt a bit tingly from the magic. It wasn’t bad, just weird, and suddenly all she could think of was Adamant, and that damn Mark on Adaar’s own hand.

She clenched her fist.

“Sera? Are you up here?” 

Sera jumped. Adaar had come into Sera’s room. 

“Sera?”

Adaar peered out the open window, looked around and caught sight of Sera sitting against the wall.

“Here you are,” she sounded relieved. “What’s wrong?”

“I--nothing.” Sera huffed and blew a strand of hair out of her face. She’d need to cut her hair again soon. It was going to get in her eyes if it got too much longer.

“It’s definitely something.”

“No, it isn’t!” Sera folded her arms and looked away.

Adaar huffed and clambered out the window, swearing when she accidentally knocked her horns on the windowsill (she always did that). She sat down next to Sera, and they sat together in silence for a few minutes.

“My mother used to be a saarebas,” Adaar said.

“A what?” Sera blinked up at her. Answering things was easier than trying to say what she was thinking. 

“One of those Qunari mages.”

“Oh.” Sera blinked. “With the--?” she made gestures towards her mouth.

Adaar nodded. “With the stitches. She still has the scars. And she doesn’t have any horns. She has scars on her back, too. From lashing.” She ran a hand over her own large horns. “She says she used to have bigger horns than me, but they chopped them off.”

Sera shuddered. “Bloody Qun-thing,” she said. “Bull’s always goin’ on about how great it is, sounds like bollocks to me.”

“Pretty much,” Adaar agreed. “But Sera--do you know why they do that to mages?”

“‘Cos they’re pricks?”

Adaar laughed. “Well, that too. But it’s mostly because they’re afraid. Afraid of magic, afraid of mages--”

“Oi, oi, Tadwinks, don’t worry,” Sera assured her. “I’m not gonna turn into one a’those Qun pricks--I just don’t like all the fire and demons and shite. Promise!”

“Sera, magic isn’t anything to be afraid of, any more than fire is,” Adaar said, her tone pleading. “Please--I don’t want you, or anyone, to be scared of me.”

“I’m not, promise!” Sera assured her. “It’s just--that thing with the breathing fire and the lightning and the--the--” she faltered. How was she to explain the strange sensation in her gut whenever magic was cast, or the vertigo she felt when she looked into the Breach? How was she to articulate the way Cole tugged at her mind, the way Solas’ spells felt the strangest bit familiar? “And it just--”

Adaar looked at her, and Sera hated the way she looked, her bright eyes all sadness and painful hope.

“It’s fine,” Sera assured her, grabbing her hands to show her she wasn’t afraid, she _wasn’t_. “You--it just--after that stupid thing at the fortress, Adamant, yeah? All that--all that--” her throat closed, and to her horror, she felt a burning at the corners of her eyes. 

“What?” Adaar asked. “All that what?”

“All that _nothing,_ ” Sera breathed. “Stupid, it’s stupid,” she shook her head. “It’s--who cares, yeah? It--I just--”

“It’s _not_ stupid,” Adaar insisted. “It was--it was bad,” she said. “It was really bad. I know it was--it was hard.” 

“ _That’s_ what’s the matter!” Sera exclaimed. “All that weird dream shite--felt like falling the whole time, like I was on a ship--” she shuddered. “Demons and shite, and you go into that place every night, and I--I can’t do _anythin’_ about it--arrows aren’t any fuckin’ use against a thing like that, and it’s stupid--”

Adaar clenched her hands tightly around Sera’s. “You’re worried _for_ me,” she said. "Not scared _of_ me."

Sera sighed, something inside her relaxing. “Too bloody smart,” she said, for Adaar had said it perfectly when Sera couldn’t wrap her own head around it. She patted Adaar’s cheek. “All that magic--it’s gonna hurt you, right? Always happens, bloody mages--bloody magic--” she looked away.

“Sera,” Adaar tilted Sera’s head towards her. “It won’t.”

“Already did,” Sera said with a scowl, looking at the Mark on Adaar’s hand. “Healin’ didn’t do a whole lot of bloody good there, did it?”

“Maybe not,” Adaar agreed with a shrug. “But it’s like--like…” she paused. “I mean, if you got shot with an arrow--”

Sera blew a raspberry. “I’d never get shot. I’m too good.”

“But if you were, you’d blame the shooter, not the arrow, right?”

“An arrow isn’t a demon, now, is it?”

“It can still kill you like a demon can, right?”

“I mean, sure, but it can’t get in your head.”

“If you shoot someone in the head, it can.”

Sera laughed. “I don’t think that’s really the same thing at all!” 

Adaar smiled a bit. “Maybe not. But do you know what I mean?” 

Sera sighed. “I dunno…” she said, her shoulders slumping. “You made my hand tingly.”

“What?”

“The healin’ shite. It made my hand tingly.” she held out her hand. “Normal healing doesn’t do that, now does it?”

“I don’t know,” Adaar said, peering at Sera’s hand. “I think I’d prefer a little tingliness over a cut.”

“I guess,” Sera said. “Don’t have to bandage it or nothin’.”

“See? I told you, magic’s not so bad at all.” Adaar flashed a wide grin, the one that never failed to make Sera smile in return.

“‘S weird, though,” Sera said. “And...I dunno,” she sighed, her smile fading. “Never see magic except when things are bad, right? When everything’s normal, all the mages are away in their Towers or whatever.”

“Well, there’s the Avvar and the Dalish and Vashothari too--”

“I said or whatever, don’t need to go on about it!” Sera sighed. “And...so if there’s magic, it’s not normal, yeah?”

“Sure it is,” Adaar said. “Why not?” 

“I dunno, it just isn’t,” Sera tugged at her hair. “Why else would all the mages be in Towers if it was normal?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how Circles work. You could ask Vivienne or--”

Sera laughed.

Adaar smiled. “I suppose that’s not really an option, is it?” she patted Sera’s leg. “But it’s fine, I promise. Is it fine?”

Sera looked down at the bright Mark on Adaar’s hand. That wasn’t fine, at all--it felt bad, she knew it. But Adaar, her Tadwinks? Well...she was just fine. 

“Come on,” Sera pulled Adaar to her feet. “Still got those pies to make, yeah?”

Adaar laughed. “Oh! You know, I’d almost forgotten?” 

“You are too weird,” Sera informed her with a giggle. “Come on, luv. Just don’t put any magic into them, yeah? Don’t need people turnin’ into frogs or whatever.”

“Maybe I could turn Cullen into a frog,” Adaar said thoughtfully. “Or Vivienne.” she shook her head. “No...Vivienne would never fall for it.”

“‘S too bad, really,” Sera clambered back through the window. “Watch yer head.” 

Adaar ducked her head this time. There was a mark on the windowsill from how many times she’d knocked her horns against it. Adaar had enormous horns, beautiful and curled, that swooped over her head and were capped with gold sheathes. 

When they were both back in Sera’s room, Sera reached up to put her arms around Adaar’s neck. She drew her down into a deep kiss. Adaar pulled her close, holding her tight enough to just about squeeze the breath out of Sera. 

“I love you,” Adaar whispered when they broke out of the kiss. 

Sera laughed and pressed her face to Adaar’s neck. “You’re bloody wonderful, you know that?” she said. “I love you too, Tadwinks,” she murmured, almost too quietly for Adaar to hear.


End file.
